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"Right…I suppose this is the place then, isn't it, Moran?" Moneypenny asked, wiping her brow of sweat. Moran grunted as the two of them looked up at the inn. It was older and slightly ramshackled, the wooden sign over the front door warped with time and rain. On the hot day that they were experiencing though, even into the evening, the sign was bone dry.
Louis had sent the two of them on a mission together as part of an overarching investigation into a timber trafficking ring that had been growing more and more prominent, with wood being brought from Russia, through Scotland and into England.
The inn that the town was located in was a significant stopping point for the wood, where it would change hands before continuing on down to London, or over the water to Belfast.
This resulted in numerous ships being built not to standard, as the wood hadn't been screened, causing ships carrying significant amounts of cargo to experience issues and sink.
It had originally just been a commercial issue, something limited to only small boats, but the illegal wood began to make its way into being used on navy vessels. Since the wood was of such poor quality, ships were rotting and leaking, resulting in arms and supplies for the military being lost.
And so, they had been ordered to investigate.
The sun was beginning to turn a brilliant orange as it began to set, the day fading into night. It had taken them longer to get there than had been expected, thanks to a felled tree blocking the train that they were on. "I suppose we should head on in then," Moneypenny said, breaking the silence.
Moran simply grunted, walking up to the door and pushed it open with a shove, stomping inside. Moneypenny followed suit after him, having to use more force than she expected to open the door.
The inside of the inn was warm, an older lady standing behind the counter. "Ah, you two must be Mr and Mrs Johnson! Welcome, welcome. I'll get the key in a moment. We don't often get many young couples like the two of you here, so this is a lovely surprise!"
Moran and Moneypenny looked at each other. They knew that the identity that Louis had arranged for them would mean that they would be able to frequently interact without arousing suspicion, but marriage?
The innkeeper gave them the key and explained some areas around the town that they could visit or eat at. She inquired as to whether or not they'd like to have dinner, but both Moneypenny and Moran declined, saying that they'd eaten on the train (which was true).
The innkeeper handed over the key, told them the number of the room, and pointed them in the right direction. Moneypenny was grateful that she'd only brought a light travelling bag, as the journey had been long enough without having to lug a suitcase up the steep flight of stairs at the end of it.
Before she could start however, Moran grabbed both bags and started to walk up the stairs, hoisting Moneypenny's onto his back in the process.
The woman was slightly agape at the gesture, standing there in shock for a second, before hurrying up the stairs after him.
Moneypenny turned at the top of the stairs to their room, where Moran was standing in the doorway unmoving. "Moran? Is something the matter?" The black haired man stood there for a long moment, before coughing and stepping to the side, waving Moneypenny in.
She looked around the room in confusion, trying to pinpoint exactly what had made Moran freeze. The room was clean, if a little small. There was a small painting on the wall in between two large windows, both of which Moneypenny saw would be able to open. There was a small wooden wardrobe, and a bed that was bracketed by two nightstands, and even a tiny ensuite bathroom with a toilet and a sink-
Oh.
There was a bed. Bed, singular.
It had a beautiful green duvet with a cream blanket on top for extra warmth, presumably when it was a touch cooler than this.
But that didn't change the fact that there was only one bed.
"Ah," Moneypenny said after a moment of looking around the room. "Well. I suppose it is a logical conclusion to make, with our fake identities being married." She turned around and took her bag from Moran, who was still standing at the doorway in shock. "I think we should begin the investigation tomorrow," she said, removing her clothes from the small bag and putting them away in the cabinet. "A quiet night might be just the thing after all the travelling we did today."
At the sound of silence she turned around and looked at Moran. "What's the matter?" Moran blinked. "You're very calm about having to share a room with your male colleague." Moneypenny shrugged. "It's for the sake of the mission. I'm willing to do what it takes to make sure we succeed." She raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"
At the remark, Moran seemed to snap out of whatever funk he had burrowed himself into. "Don't make assumptions about what I'm willing and not willing to do, Moneypenny," he huffed, setting his bag down on the bed as well opposite Moneypenny. He scoffed. "Moneypenny. What a mouthful of a name."
"This attempt of yours to recover from your shock of having to share a bed with me isn't working, I'm afraid," Moneypenny retorted. "So I'll take the left side of the bed, and you'll take the right?"
The question caught Moran even more off guard than the situation already had. "Uh, yes, I suppose that's fine." Moneypenny nodded, satisfied. "Alright." She grabbed her nightclothes and walked to the small ensuite bathroom to change.
Moran felt his face turning red slightly at the thought of having to share a bed with her. He had been banking on Moneypenny being too shy to want to share a bed with him, and so he would conveniently be able to go back down to the front desk and ask for another room (despite what strange looks the innkeeper may have given him due to the marital status of their assumed identities), and his reputation would have been saved. Unfortunately, Moneypenny seemed to have less care of such topics that he had thought she may have.
She emerged shortly after in a simple nightgown, walking briskly over to her bag and pulling out a small novel (the one she'd been reading on the train, Moran thought), and slipped under the covers.
Moran took that as his cue to do the same, going into the bathroom. Normally he would have just slept in a fresh pair of underwear and nothing else, but the thought of doing so in a bed with Moneypenny almost made him dizzy.
He had pulled out a simple linen shirt and a light pair of pants that could comfortably fit over his underwear, getting changed as slowly as he feasibly could, splashing his face briefly with cold water from the faucet.
He took a deep breath and headed back out into the room.
Moneypenny had turned off her lamp next to her side of the bed, leaving only his still lit. Her eyes were closed, her breathing levels. Moran crossed the room quietly to the windows, opening them enough to allow some airflow in for the hot room. He then tiptoed around the bed to 'his' side, something he never thought he'd ever do, and lay down on top of the covers.
He was a little shy to lay under the covers with Moneypenny, and besides, it was warm in the room. He turned off the light, laying there in the darkness, the sun now fully set.
"Eve," Moneypenny whispered into the room. Moran's head snapped to look at her. "Sorry?" "Eve. You asked me earlier what kind of name Moneypenny was. My first name is Eve." Moran stared at her for a second, before forcefully turning his gaze back to the ceiling. Moneypenny - Eve - continued to lay in perfect tranquility, seemingly unbothered.
A while passed before Moran was able to summon the courage to speak again. He cleared his throat, asking "What made your parents choose that name?"
Silence.
"...Eve?"
But she was already fast asleep, and Moran could see her chest moving so slow and easy up and down.
His gaze flicked around the room, and he sighed.
In bed with a beautiful woman would have been any man's dream, and being in bed with Moneypenny - Eve - was most definitely one of his. Moran just didn't expect to be blushing like a young girl when he finally got the chance to do so.
He sighed again in the darkness of the room. He doubted that he would be able to sleep that night with someone he had so much admiration (and amoration) for lying next to him.